Ode to Yo
by El Dorado
Summary: Not really humor but there's no category for insanity... About Jet and Clive and the others too. Please Read and Review. No new additions, just some grammatical and umm... formatical errors fixed.


Sorry for the wait… did you think I had died? Well, I'm okay now because I accepted Panekia as my blood and have begun a life in a brand new form. Or not… ^_~ I'm a bit on the insane side, for those who don't know me. Anyway, I'm back for the time being. This is a short, senseless little fic about Jet Enduro. I tried not to bash him… I hope I didn't bash him. Did I bash him? Read and find out… Here we go…

Standard Disclaimer: I own a computer, a laptop, a pen, some paper and a very sick muse. I don't see the Wild Arms trademark on that list, do you?

_ "Yo what's going on?"_

_ "Yo where's the gella?"_

_ "Yo"_

_ "Yo"_

_ "Yo"_

Clive Winslet awoke with a start. His unruly green hair was matted with sweat as were his clothes. His breathing was uneven as one word echoed through his head… Yo; Jet Enduro's favorite word. The money crazed treasure hunter said it every chance he could. It was either "Yo", "Whatever" or something profane. "Whatever is a word and profanities are words to some extent… but "Yo"? This bothered Clive the most. He spent nights pondering the origin of this so called word and got no answer. Suddenly, it came to him. Clive's breathing slowed to a normal pace as his brain pieced together a solution. Bit it was so time consuming…

_"Looking for a shortcut can lead you astray…"_

The more Clive thought about it… he had to give it a try. Trademark phrase swirling through his head Clive eased into a peaceful slumber.

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Rising with a firm resolve, Clive marched to his comrades. All three sat crowded around a fire, cooking what Gallows labeled "breakfast of champions" but was nothing more than yesterday's leftovers. Disrupting "the fine art of cooking" (Gallows again), Clive announced, "I have always said you lacked social skills Jet Enduro, but I now have a solution."

Silence. Virginia and Gallows seemed surprised at Clive's straight-forwardness. They almost expected Jet to whip out his Airget Lamh and murder their sniper companion. However Jet just narrowed his eyes. Finally, the silver haired boy asked, "What are you gonna do for me?" 

Clive absentmindedly adjusted his glasses as he continued. "I was thinking in terms of simple lessons in etiquette and tact." Jet's expression softened slightly. The older man seemed relieved. He went on, "So what do you say?"

Jet shrugged and replied, "Whatever, yo."

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"Jet, please concentrate. Your first lesson is… Jet pay attention!" 

Jet scowled in response. 

Clive paid no mind to his disgruntled pupil and said, "Yo is not a word and whatever is not an appropriate response to any intelligent question."

"Are you callin' me stupid or somethin'?" mumbled Jet angrily.

Clive groaned and replied, "No not at all."

"Then what?"

"It's just that… repetition is not a thing to make a habit of." 

Jet scowled, again. "Virginia is always talking about justice and well… flying. And Gallows keeps us up to date with his love life. That's repetition. Why aren't you on their cases?" 

Clive sighed. "They need to get rid of that habit too."

"Yeah, well what about your shortcut astray stuff?" 

"Do you mean 'Looking for a shortcut can lead you astray'?" Jet nodded and waited for Clive's response. 

"Yes, well that's different…" began Clive slowly.

Jet ignored him. "What does that mean anyways?" He paused as if thinking. "Does it mean that looking for a shortcut will make you gay? 'Cause Pike showed me this shortcut thing…"

Clive raised his hands in defeat. "Why don't we pick this up tomorrow with a poetry lesson?" 

************************************************************************

"Poetry is…"

Jet gave his signature scowl and exclaimed, "I know what poetry is!"

Clive raised his eyebrows, seemingly surprised. "Well then give me an example of a poem."

"You mean make one up?" asked Jet. Clive nodded. "Okay…" He seemed thoughtful. "I call it "Ode to Yo" here I go."

_Yo__, Yo, Yo…._

_I say it more than all the other things_

_Gallows talks 'bout women_

_Virginia__ speaks of wings_

_Everyone repeats stuff_

_So why don't you just chill?_

_Let me live and speak like I wanna_

_Please and thank you if you will._

There was silence and Jet was certain he could hear crickets chirping. Clive finally coughed. He pushed up his glasses on to the bridge of his nose and began his evaluation of Jet's "poem." "Ah well, it was quite interesting and umm… your use of please and thank you was quite superb." He paused, thinking about what he should say next. "But," he began trying to be lenient, "I'll have to take off points for bringing break dancing, drug abuse and criminality to mind."

Jet frowned and muttered, "Insults yo, insults," causing Clive to cringe in spiritual pain.

After regaining his composure, the more intelligent man announced, "I resign." And with that alone, Clive Winslet walked off mumbling something which sounded remarkably like, "Guardians please heal my wretched soul."

Random insanity… good for the soul, is it not? So R/R please. 


End file.
